Lyrics:
hell is hot
I'm working for the kingdom, like working in a shop
Convicted by the gospel, but it don't never stop
Cover my heart, cover my love
Cover my
We've got double wides and single mamas
Back-pew gossip and beauty-shop drama
Groceries at the Dollar Tree
Two buck, truck stop Orange Crush ICEE
the man who grips the gospel gun
While the quiet prayer, the smell of dinner on the ground
Heals up the morning air, ain't nothin' sweeter around
I
the man who grips the gospel gun
While the quiet prayer, the smell of dinner on the ground
Heals up the morning air, ain't nothin' sweeter around
I
the man who grips the gospel gun
While in quiet prayer, the smell of dinner on the ground
Fills up the morning air, ain't nothin' sweeter around
I can
Lay on the couch, while I clip your toenails
Dreams of peaches and cream steam secret spells
Soft spoken gospel, Barry White acapell
Violin, good
novels
When I say it's Well Done I just hit up Drama (know that)
This the food for your soul like I'm speakin' gospel (woo)
And I strangle the beat like
the man who grips the gospel gun
While the quiet prayer, the smell of dinner on the ground
Heals up the morning air, ain't nothin' sweeter around
I
It's a book shop)
Uh, how about Biggles Combs His Hair?
(No, no, we don't have that one, funny)
The Gospel According To Charlie Drake?
(No, no, no, try
Hardy creps
Walkin with a dumb Ed Hardy bop
I got so much Ed Hardy clothes
I could open my own Ed Hardy shop
But, you man are dry like
You ain't creamed
make believe my heart's still talking it's a cheap gift shop here you won't find meaning hang it up try to get sleep you gotta breath now you can't find
dark heart"
Oh tries to write his novel
Treats it like a gospel
All the words he tries to phrase
Are worlds away from him
Short on truths from him
cut to the coke when I'm cooking the pot
Drugs, bitch! I got what you want come and get what I got
Now I almost forgot, I come to close up your shop
cookin' the pot, c'mon
Drugs, bitch, I got what you want come and get what I got
Now I almost forgot, I come to close up your shop
I love to fold up
stickin'
Razor sharp rip 'em, bites lift 'em
We at the Jam direct
The Ghetto Gospel, collaboration
One word could change the nation
No doubt!
[Hook]
I ain't your regular rapper who
Just be talking shit
Listen to it a lil' closer
Hear the gospel in it
How I maneuver through the
Studio is hallelujah
classical, gospel, and hip hop
Black history is non-stop-
From the church pews to the front page news of Time magazine
Black history is seen- felt, and heard
Hey Baby
Hey, Whats up?
You know I was at the coffee shop the other day and
I was thinking like, maybe I could have like
Have what mama?
I Dont Belong To No One
Lets Sing This Gospel According To John
I Dance With All The Ladies In The Room
With All The Brides, No Matter The Groom
/He sang gospel real fine
Loved to hunt /On his farm liked to work
He cherished his kids /That was for sure
(CHORUS)
Well that was Gene the cuctioneer
the evening rain
I dream my dream just to ease the pain
Men huddling around in a corner shop door
Lying still on a concrete floor
Lights on a bus still guide me
do chess, but she want the ping pong
She gon' try to break my heart, so I sip
Lil' bitch gone rogue
She started popping like Weezy From a gospel world
the air
If your spirits need a lift
Hit the shops and buy a gift
Helpers decked in Santa suits
Fluffy beards and shiny boots
Jingle Bells and Ho Ho Ho
Wrap
like preachers man with my gospel tone deaf
Unwinding testimony in my Hip Hop homestead
Lie about zilch my rhymes never counterfeit
Mystifying minds
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